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november ninth, twenty sixteen: i woke up and thought to myself ‘something’s…..different.’ i soon found that biff tannen had ripped his way through the fourth wall of cinematic fiction and into this supposed reality, regained possession of the futuristic sports almanac, and wrested control of the white house (bob gale, a writer for back to the future II, has acknowledged that the rich, powerful tannen is based on someone who recently became king of America—google that), giving rise to a wave of ‘alts’—facts, wings of the right, and of course timelines. within these alternative timelines, expect quite a few of them to legalize pussy grabbing (some in more lawyerly language, some not so much), and in those where a female version of tannen assumes power, an equally degrading form of something called dong conking.

none of that really matters, though. the only thing i ever worry about is me, of course, which is why i have emerged from a months-long hiatus to make it known that i am not fake news. that’s all. i’m expecting many of these alternate timelines to produce executive orders shutting down any and all outlets that do not acknowledge the supreme insight and godliness of our new *rutaceaecean* figurehead of american greatness. so, as of this writing, the official stance of the philosophunculist blog is that america has been made great.

and speaking of biff tannen, was it really so bad that he got to be rich, if only in one timeline? in all three movies, dude gets smothered in poopy, which is what we have to assume is happening to this current commander in chief in every other timeline. just let the guy have one feces-free life, alright?

back to me. this blog is very real. it’s not even news, therefore it can’t be fake news. when the witch hunt for publications of ill repute commences, please don’t censor me. i’ll do anything. grab my pussy (in a timeline where i am a woman). conk my dong (in the timeline where the king is a woman. or even a man. i don’t care. if the masculine king of america wants to conk my dong, i’ll take it. years after this, when i’m homeless because all workers have been replaced by robots and the children and friends of the king, i can tell passersby that the king of america once conked my dong, and they will reward me with a russian ruble.) just let me keep this blog. it’s really all i’ve got, until america achieves an even greater level of greatness and me and everyone i know gets rich from working at our jobs (before the robots take over) because america will be that great

*i sort of made that up, but it has a base in rutaceae, which is the citrus family, and i know that doesn’t help my ‘not fake’ spiel, but due to its base on a real word, it can’t be classified as fake*

Minnesota is a place that celebrates itself, and for good reason. The humble folks here work hard, and they will not hesitate to fling insults at you, after you’ve left, if you say otherwise. One small town here, Austin, produced both Spam and John Madden. We’re influencers in the arts, too—one DJ on local station The Current (an entity that transcends the greatness of Minnesota itself, according to The Current) went so far as to take credit for Arcade Fire’s 2011 Grammy win because he quote, “played their music on The Current.”

Now, The North Star State has earned yet another feather in its already dangerously over-plumed cap, and Minnesotans are absolutely loving the mentions their state is receiving in the national press.

Musician Scott Weiland was recently found dead on his tour bus in Bloomington, right by the biggest and best mall in America, The Mall of America. After some obligatory somber Facebook posts commemorating the fallen star, Minnesotans cheered right up after hearing the word ‘Minnesota’ on multiple nationwide news outlets.

I recently hit the streets to ask one question to these pasty, lake-loving folk: What do you think of Scott Weiland’s passing? Here are their responses.

“I think it adds to the rich history of this state. Great things happen here, like when Larry Craig tried to solicit gay sex in the Minneapolis-St. Paul airport bathroom. And just last summer, Walter Palmer, a Minnesotan dentist, killed Cecil the lion. Now we’ve got this.”

“Scott has always loved Minnesota; he’s been coming here for over twenty years, fer chrissakes. At the end of an STP show back in ’95, he said, and I quote, “I love you, Minneapolis! You guys are the best!” The show was actually in St. Paul, but Scott always had a quirky sense of humor. Think about that for a minute. Scott Weiland, a man who has travelled the globe, said that he loves us, and that we are the best. Wow. It’s humbling.”

“I wonder what Prince has to say about this. Prince is from Minnesota. That’s why I’m wondering what Prince thinks. Because he’s from Minnesota. If Prince wasn’t from Minnesota, I wouldn’t give a runny dump what he thought. But because Prince is from Minnesota, I love everything about him. Did I mention that Prince is from Minnesota, and that if he wasn’t from Minnesota, his music would suck?”

“Oh god, this is tragic. I hope someone was there to hear his last words. I bet they were about Minnesota.”

“The deaths of Philip Seymour Hoffman and Robin Williams really tore me up, because they didn’t die in Minnesota. It’s so cliché to die in New York or LA. What was the question?”

“Scott Weiland? I’m not familiar, but I did hear you mention Minnesota. If I could say some things about Minnesota: it has everything, the arts, good schools, steady economy. Also, some of the most racist people I’ve ever met live here.”

“Yeah, I’ll give Weiland credit for being something of a rock legend, but nothing will ever top the Replacements or Hüsker Dü. Now those were bands. They were all drunken assholes and I couldn’t name one of their songs, but they’re from Minnesota, so I love ’em.”

“The Rolling Stones were here over the summer, and I was hoping and praying one of them would kick the bucket before they left town, maybe from heat stroke, plain old age, or cardiac arrest attributed to an espresso blast from one of our esteemed independent coffee shops. That would’ve been huge for Minnesota. I think Slayer is coming to town soon. Those guys have got to be getting pretty old, right?”

There you have it. You can’t beat Minnesota. But don’t move here, unless you’re already a Minnesotan.